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Axel Kohagen

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Blog Entries posted by Axel Kohagen

  1. Axel Kohagen
    Losing to Traffic AND the Marlins (Twins 2 Marlins 4 - Game 72)
     
    Began the drive home with the Twins down by two runs and an unexpected optimism they could pull this thing off. Maybe getting a phone call from my wife informing me we had power after a 91 hour drought made me sentimental. Maybe it was seeing Minnesotans looking over piles of chopped wood, proud to have survived another beating from Mother Nature.
     
    My hope didn’t die when then Twins attempts to score a run died on the basepaths, like floodwaters cresting before the top of a dam. I carried those hopes with me into the Chipotle and temporarily forget them while trying to order fast enough for the rapid-fire burrito assembly line. Ordering Chipotle during a supper rush is not for the faint of heart.
     
    I turned the key and heard Kris Atteberry’s voice. This was a potentially disastrous omen, as Atteberry is the voice of the post-game recap. He mentioned some other scores and then, false alarm, the game was back on. At least when the Twins do lose, he always finds something unique to focus his wrap-up on. He’s like a grandpa trying to cheer up a kid who just lost a scoop of ice cream to gravity.
     
    Thielbar kept his 0.00 ERA. It’s got to be good to be him right now. He beat the odds and now he’s conquering the world, holding onto that baseball like a bloody battle axe. Odds are he can’t rule that mound forever, but right now he’s king of the hill until someone changes the tune. There’s no better feeling than cheating death and inevitability.
     
    Around this time, the world’s loudest whistler blasted a serviceable rendition of “Charge!” . . . and then things got weird. The whistler kept right on whistling, until the tune went all free form jazz. From there, the whistling went mad like a hatter and he kept on tooting and shrieking away, presumably hoping someone would slap him on the back to stop the noises forever. I fear this whistler may still be whistling, in the dark, unable to stop.
    I think the Twins’ batters came up to the plate in the 9th, but not so anyone with an untrained eye would’ve noticed. Then, Kris Atteberry came on with a the real wrap up and I brought supper in to my wife. The Twins lost, and somehow gave up one more run than I had noticed. I had hoped for nothing.
     
    But somehow, hoping and being wrong didn’t kill me. That might be worth remembering for next time.
     
    Magically Ineffective (Twins 3 Marlins 5 - Game 73)
     
    I didn’t turn the radio on because the Twins were up by three.
     
    This makes sense, you see. Because if I listened to the Twins play out the rest of the game, I’d have to hear them ground out and fly out and strike out and poop out. Then, there’d be a home run or two and we’d lose.
     
    But if I stopped listening, the Twins would forget to choke. The game would proceed in a straight, uneventful line until the Twins win and The Most Wonderous Crown of BreakEvening was in our hands.
     
    Truly, I believed this would work.
     
    It didn’t, of course. My phone coughed and I got a text saying the Twins had breathed their last breath in Miami, where all of about four people probably witnessed it. If they’d have won that game, I would’ve been sure it was because I didn’t jinx them. Since they lost, I get to settle in for a long night of being a sucker. Awesome.
  2. Axel Kohagen
    The first thing you need to understand is the New York Yankees breed monsters.
     
    Monstrous Yankees seem to be human, but they grow to be so much more than that. They become legends, with their memory preserved in Monument Park throughout the ages.
     
    This is not necessarily an insult: monsters can be heroes, too. Take Babe Ruth. He began as a boy at an orphanage and grew into a walking appetite. His home runs shot further and further away from the batter’s box until thinking of him as a mortal might be a minor baseball blasphemy.
     
    Some monsters grow large because of a mouth that won’t quit, like Leo Durocher, Casey Stengel, and Yogi Berra. Their voices live longer than the sounds of their words, famously and infamously. Billy Martin punched his way to baseball heaven with a chip on his shoulder and a fire in his belly. He even did some of his beatings with the Minnesota Twins organization.
     
    It’s not just players that become Yankee monsters. George Steinbrenner’s ego grew so large it still lives, even after the man has passed away. Future generations will meet that ego on Saturday Night Live and Seinfeld reruns.
     
    These Yankees are much less monstrous than previous incarnations. Alex Rodriguez, perhaps the most Frankenstein-like hodge-podge of ego, scandal, and bad attitude a Yankees’ fan could dream of, is still injured. Mariano Rivera, pitching for his last year in the majors, is a supernatural force. Witnessing him close an inning is simply beautiful, even if it’s your team he’s erasing from the field batter by batter. The slow, measured way he sets himself before the pitch stops the heart.
     
    Twins heroes lack monstrosity, for better or worse. The greatest Twin of all, Harmon Killebrew, was famous for his calm demeanor and love of ice cream. A writer couldn’t invent a more likeable, relatable man.
     
    Unless, somehow, that writer created Joe Mauer. Famous for side burns, local roots, and an “aw shucks” smile, the only thing monstrous about Mauer is his ability to get on base. Even that gets overlooked by scores of booing fans, who will be the real monsters when history looks back on the Twins catcher.
     
    Hating the Yankees is great fun for Twins fans because we get to watch the local boys take on monsters from the coast. When they win, Godzilla gets driven back to the coast and the little guys won the day.
     
    Still, the children inside of us still cheer for the monsters sometime, even if that means cheering when Godzilla trashes a building or clapping when Mariano Rivera says his final goodbye to your home city.
  3. Axel Kohagen
    Department of Water and Power (Twins 1 Indians 5 Game 69)
    It’s really easy to forget about a baseball game when you open up your blinds to see water slapping into your window like gravity made a 90 degree mistake.
     
    Weekend baseball series are like a family cookout you can take with you on the car stereo. When the Twins are out of town, the cookout covers the Twin Cities and keeps going. You can ask strangers in blue and red for a score and they’ll tell you. If your biological family is far away, Twins Territory never is.
     
    That said, the rain announced something bigger than baseball was coming, and then the power dropped out. Somewhere in between the storm and the silence, my phone informed the Twins had already lost. At least I wouldn’t have that to fret about.
     
    Sometime around 1 AM, my wife and I took to the roads to get ice, water, and batteries. I wondered what would have happened if the storm hit when the Twins were holding court in Target Field. I don’t think I even looked to see if the lights were on. Seeing that place dark just breaks my heart.
     
    Kick in the Pants (Twins 7 Indians 8 - Game 70)
     
    I expect the power to come back on within two hours of it going out. I’m not saying this is realistic, but it’s true for me. I don’t even get worried; I just know I have to wait two hours and the power will come back on.
     
    The Twins took the field 24 hours after power went out, and my house was powerless. I was powerless. The Target I went to for candles and trail mix was half-powerless, and the freezer section was a casualty of the storm.
     
    I bought a brick of batteries to put in a twelve-year-old portable radio. One trip out of the house had brought me from the Stone Age to the 1980s. I could set the radio outside, put my feet up on a lawn chair, and listen to the Twins play.
     
    Except P.J. Walters spoiled the evening I was brewing. If I had power in my house, I’d be scouring Twitter and the Internet beyond for reasons why before I really let myself cuss him out for all those walks. Rendered powerless, I was forced to give him the benefit of the doubt.
     
    There are parts about not having electricity I’ve learned to enjoy. Reading Games of Thrones by candlelight seemed rather fitting, which was a blessing. I downed 500 pages of that book while killing time. I like holding my flashlight like a cop and pretending like I’m in a late 90s suspense/thrill when I go downstairs. I even get to watch the cars driving past my window and imagine flipping off the ones I’m pretty sure have electricity.
     
    Moseying into Town (Twins 4 Indians 3 - Game 71)
     
    The Twins won, but I didn’t notice until afterwards. We’re still powerless, and I keep losing track of time without having a cell phone clock to check.
    I caught the postgame show in my car on the way from a trip into civilization to fill my saddlebags with power for my batteries. Then, at home, I caught Gleeman and the Geek on my portable radio as I stared at my Starin’ Tree and hoped I had enough juice to finish my game recap while it’s still fresh in mind.
     
    I’m such a cry-baby. Couple days without tech toys and I feel like Major League Baseball is sailing away from me across the seven seas. This is just a temporary loss of obsessive electronic fandom. Gone is the illusion I can harness the entire game in my head, the moment it happens.
     
    Now, when I’m gazing at my Starin’ Tree, I imagine the game in my head. These mental phantoms aren’t real, and they can’t be analyzed. Still, there’s an added heroic element to these daydreams, as if boyhood dreams came home at last.
  4. Axel Kohagen
    Holding a Handful of Water (Twins 7 White Sox 5 – Game 66)
     
    As a kid, I used to fill my cupped palm with water to see how long I could hold onto it. No matter how steady I held my hand, the water always slipped away.
     
    I grew up Iowa. We made our own fun and we liked it.
     
    As an adult Twins fan, the feeling returns to me. Game after game I see the Minnesota team find a big inning – like their four run first inning – and then slowly let it slide through their fingers.
     
    The tall tale used to be that the Twins managed the infield like an enchanted bear trap. Now I’m just happy if they give up fewer than four runs a game.
     
    Doumit came up clutch again, and I’m loving that. Doumit would be a great hero for devout Twins fans to reminisce about for winter after winter. He’s scrappy and he’s 99.9% rock and roll. He might not get his own verse in the Ballad of 2013, but he deserves a mention.
     
    Late Inning Seepage (Twins 7 White Sox 4 – Game 67)
    Something sickening about watching runs go up in the late innings against the Twins.
     
    This game is about Justin Morneau breaking a homerless streak and giving out imaginary high-fives in the dugout.
     
    And it’s about trying to find my hatred for the White Sox.
     
    I miss really hating a baseball team. I’m too old to believe in evil super villains and demons summoned by a golden puzzle box.
     
    I don’t believe in that the rag-tag, plucky team of ballplayers beat the richer, stronger team from across town, either.
     
    Used to be different. I used to listen to games on the radio and tell my brother-in-law “Don’t worry, the Twins find a way.” And I would be RIGHT so much of the time.
     
    When those Twins from the past beat the White Sox, it was like Smaug taking a nosedive.
     
    No need to give up hope. Maybe I can work up some bile and brimstone for the Yankees.
     
    All Day on All Days (Twins 8 White Sox 4 - Game 68)
     
    Like a vampire in reverse, baseball is more powerful in the daylight.
     
    In fact, regular daylight living might be what’s sucking the life out of everyone. Everything’s so convenient we have to have hissyfits about the three seconds of life we lost when someone cut us off in traffic.
     
    You can handle your money with a human-free drive-thru. Not even the billboards stand still these days.
     
    But when the Twins play a day game, something heroic has a chance to enter into your bumper-to-bumper, quickie cell phone check kind of day.
     
    There’s the tale of Oswaldo Arcia, who came to the pros fully formed and ready. I’m quite partial to Arcia – when I heard John Bonnes praising him on Gleeman and the Geek I got mad someone else had noticed him.
     
    There’s the awkwardness of Jared Burton’s struggles (and the aforementioned Arcia dropping a ball didn’t help out here) and his redemption in closing at the game.
     
    More compelling than wondering if you’re driving past the chain restaurant in your neighborhood or the exact same restaurant two cities over, isn’t it?
  5. Axel Kohagen
    History in the Air, Twins Hits Stay in the Yard (Twins 0 Tigers 4 Game 63)
     
    The Twins played tonight, in as much as an official game occurred and they were there.
     
    At least people at Target Field got to see Eddie Guardado and PR guy Tom Mee get inducted into the Twins Hall of Fame.
     
    I listened to the first inning in my backyard, until the mosquitoes ran up the scoreboard in a hellish game of their own. I listened deeper into the game inside my house. I listened past Eddie Guardado’s time in the radio booth. Then Scott Diamond wrote “The End” on the game in the sixth inning and I went looking for a snack.
     
    Guardado’s time on the air (and, from what I hear, his speech at the ceremony) served as a warning about the cutting power of nostalgia. No doubt the grownup fans in baseball jerseys know what he’s talking about.
     
    The boys of summer find their way to fall, as do we all.
     
    It’s already June, and the summer’s going by quick. Maybe that’s why fans hold on to the moment a little bit longer by pretending every fly ball will grow up to be a home run.
     
    Didja Hear the One . . . (Twins 6 Tigers 3 -- Game 64)
     
    When I left with my wife to wrestle around with a friend’s puppy for the evening, we drove past Target Field in the pouring rain.
     
    “Do they think they’re playing a game tonight?” my wife asked.
     
    The sun came back, and they did play. I missed out on seeing Plouffe pick up a bat and smash his way out of the doghouse – even if just for one day.
     
    Can’t believe the entire game got past me without me even checking up on my phone.
     
    But with summer finally behaving like it ought to, time speeds up. The chase for BreakEvening is important to me, but it couldn’t beat a chocolate lab puppy splashing through puddles tonight.
     
    A Game of Catch (Twins 5 Tigers 2 -- Game 65)
     
    It’s Father’s Day, and that always reminds me I was not ready for baseball when I was younger. My dad went out and tossed the ball with me, despite all of the crying and hiding from the ball.
     
    The only run I scored in Little League happened because I accidentally kicked the ball out of the third basemen’s mitt. I found this out after I crossed the plate, began celebrating, and was greeted by giggling, embarrassed teammates.
     
    Baseball is an incredibly grown-up game for little tykes, isn’t it? Their foibles between the bases are adorable when you’ve grown past T-ball and kids playing “rover.” But when you’re wearing a hat and jeans and praying the giant kid doesn’t smash a line drive through your eye socket? The fear and shame don’t have the same charm.
     
    On this Father’s Day, the Twins gave their fans the baseball equivalent of an ugly necktie. Dozier hit a home run to prove he still had a pulse, something he does like a teenager calls home to check in before curfew. The other team’s pitcher arrived on time and stayed late, and the Twins bats were unable to send him home early.
  6. Axel Kohagen
    Twins vs. Phillies
     
    Run(s) Scored (Twins 3 Phillies 2—Game 60)
     
    Run(s) scored.
     
    When my team is at bat, I add up all the players and figure out how many runs could’ve gone on the scoreboard. I assume the highest number possible.
     
    But when it’s the other team . . .
     
    As soon as “Run(s) scored” appears on my smartphone screen all sounds around me cease. I can hear my heart beat. I don’t even count up how bad the damage could be. I just assume infinity.
     
    Somehow, despite seemingly being on the mount for all but four minutes of the baseball game, PJ Walters got out of two of those soul-stopping” Run(s) scored” announcements with the minimum amount of damage and Justin Morneau smacked a single to take the game.
     
    By the way, we were watching a zombie movie called Warm Bodies last night. When the movie wanted to up the young-and-innocent-love factor, they showed the lovers visiting a ballpark.
     
    I think I’ve said this before. In the even of a zombie apocalypse, baseball is our only hope.
     
    The Old Man Snuggle (Twins 4 Phillies 3 – Game 61)
     
    The Twins came from behind and won.
     
    I’m not going to lie. I didn’t even give this game a chance.
     
    I went to bed early because I’m old and cranky and totally felt like it.
     
    It was great, too. Quiet and peaceful. The wife stayed up watching TV so I had the whole bed to myself.
     
    That’s a lie. I had two small cats with me who didn’t take up a small amount of room, but I didn’t mind. And then the wife came to bed and I gave her the third of bed space she’s used to.
     
    When I was in my early twenties, this would have felt like surrender. Now, it feels like Christmas.
     
    The present came when I got up in the morning, checked my text messages, and saw the good guys won.
     
    Not a bad way to start a morning.
     
    Deckstravaganzapalooza Gala (Twins 2 Phillies 3 – Game 62)
     
    The Twins came up with a lead in the downhill innings, then gave it right back and spun around in strikeout circles until the game was over and the Twins lost.
     
    Two out of 3 and all that.
     
    Rough game ending for the Twins Deckstravaganza outing, where Twins bloggers and social media types get out on the Budweiser deck to watch the game.
     
    First, I gotta say that someday I WILL get up to the Budweiser deck.
     
    Secondly, I gotta wonder if all of us who type and tweet would give it all up for a chair at the barbershop or a booth at the local restaurant where the baseball talk flows without the aid of technology.
     
    Would we still do all of this if we knew a place where everybody knows our name and they’re always glad we came?
     
    I mean, what are YOU doing with all the free time you’ve saved because you knew how to handle technology?
     
    Nothing against the Deckstravaganza – I’d love to go someday. And I love meeting minds in this great big world of blogging.
     
    I guess, after a loss and busted sweep, I just need a hug and an album by The Cure.
  7. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Nationals
     
    A Small Amount of New Hope (Twins 4 Nationals 3 - Game 57)
     
    Thanks to rain that wouldn’t go away, this Nationals series will be played in a space of barely over one day.
     
    Condensing things makes this interleague series into a neat little three part trilogy. Like Star Wars or The Godfather.
     
    Well, it will be for anyone in the Land of Lakes still sporting a TC on their hat, at least.
     
    Tonight’s game had the underdog Twins playing the Nationals, a team that is actually good at playing baseball. Somehow, they won.
     
    Actually, they won in extra innings with a mighty swing of Ryan Doumit’s back – and don’t THAT warm my spooky black heart.
     
    Like Han Solo, a scruffy Glen Perkins defended Doumit’s heroism and the Twins got a win.
     
    And I almost got through this recap without mentioning how sad it was to see pics of Span talking to Twins players, wearing a uniform with not enough blue on it.
     
    The Nationals Strike Back (Twins 0 Nationals 7 - Game 58)
     
    Noon did nothing to alleviate the London bleakness and Seattle rain the Twin Cities are incapable of shaking, and an hour later the Twins became yet another thing to feel bad about.
     
    Like the middle of many trilogies, this tragedy was predicated on our heroes being disappointed and let down by one of their own.
     
    Like Lando, Fredo, and even the helicopter guy in Dawn of the Dead, Scott Diamond is breaking good guy hearts right now.
     
    33% of the disappointers I’ve mentioned turned it around to become heroes again. Scott seems like too good a guy to not be cheering for him to turn it around.
     
    Because right now, putting him on the mound feels like putting paycheck after paycheck into a slot machine just because it paid out big the last time you went to the casino.
     
    Never been a ballplayer, but I have to imagine the time between a double-header that crushed you and the next game is excruciating. You’re basically just bench-pressing your own disgust for a few hours.
     
    Return of the Losing (Twins 4 Nationals 5 – Game 59)
     
    For a minute there, it looked like the weekend trilogy of Twins games would end victoriously for hometown nine. They were up 4-2 after three innings and it felt like the stars were aligned for the Twins to slide through the remaining six innings with that kind of lead.
     
    Trilogies tend to end in jubilation, so I set to introducing a friend to all that went down at Camp Crystal Lake and then trading red and green shells in Mario Kart.
     
    When we checked back into the Twins game, we found we’d missed a rain delay. And the Nationals tied it up.
     
    Later, my phone buzzed again and the update told me the Twins had lost.
     
    If this year of Twins baseball has a writing staff, they aren’t following conventional rules. We’re supposed to be plucky and win two out of three here, if we’re going to achieve even the modest goal of break-evening. A trilogy is about daring to disturb the Universe.
     
    Moreover, trilogies are about new life and new rules. These three games didn’t change diddily. A tweet from Aaron Gleeman shone harsh reality onto my daydreamed baseball stories – these Twins aren’t winning much more than last year’s broken, nearly 100-game losing incarnation.
     
    And still, at the end of a hard game, people like me find some reason to believe.
  8. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Royals
     
    Salem’s Lot (Twins 3 Royals 0 - Game 54)
     
    I started my day with a run. My Michael Cuddyer shirsey kept me company.
     
    It’s funny how sturdy a fan’s heart is. After the announcement a beloved player will no longer be a Minnesota Twin, grief sets in. Then, when the season rolls around, you’re cheering for the players still in the dugout and you only pout when you hear former Twins’ names on highlight reels.
     
    Sorta like breaking up with the person you kissed at summer camp.
     
    I don’t go to summer camp anymore. I watch the Twins play the Royals, because at a certain point it seems like all the Twins do is play the Royals.
     
    Since their collapse from greatness, the Royals are the screwed-up cousin at the AL Central family picnic. Nobody wants to be them.
     
    Which is why it hurts that they’ve been spanking the Twins of late.
     
    At least last night halted the skid. The Twins collected three runs early and then closed out the dance club coasting at that number. Job done.
     
    Except. . .
     
    Whispers around the country that baseball’s gonna suspend players associated with recent steroid allegations. Great. Now all my friends who don’t like baseball will be bitching about steroids for the next decade instead of appreciating the nuances of a game crafted with great focus and strategy.
     
    I guess when you live in a country that produced the Salem Witch Trials, this is your lot in life.
     
    Funny Jokes (Twins 1 Royals 4 - Game 55)
     
    I missed the game, but my dad didn’t. He got to a Twins game at Kansas City before I could. I’m not saying I’m jealous, but his birthday is coming up and I’m giving him old socks and dirt.
     
    It’s looking like misread this whole steroid scandal, too. It’s looking to be just another round of veiled threats and official statements.
     
    I sure hope someone gets up on a high horse and talks about the kind of baseball the children of America truly deserve.
     
    Great joke, right? If you’re an adult baseball fan, you ought to know that things happen because they’re likely, not because they ought to.
     
    Baseball’s purity comes from our willingness to believe as children.
     
    But you can wish like a child all you want. It won’t guarantee the slugger on the cusp of the Hall of Fame gets one more year before his knees give out. It doesn’t make a pitcher stop getting tired in inning seven of a no-hitter.
     
    And no matter how much you pout, it doesn’t get you free tickets and airfare to Twins away games.
     
    KC and the New Royal Basement Revue (Twins 3 Royals 7 - Game 56)
     
    My beloved Twins found a way to lose in KC yet again.
     
    Royal loyalists have to be thrilled to see the Twins acting like perennial AL Central basement dwellers.
     
    At least it didn’t matter too much tonight, as the MLB draft gave us a nice distraction.
     
    As predicted, the Twins took pitcher Kohl Stewart in the first round.
     
    Like many fans, I’m behind on my research. Therefore, I must submit Kohl Stewart to the name test. Does he have a cool sounding name? Will it look good autographed on a baseball? Can I imagine the Target Field PA announcing it in familiar baseball fashion?
     
    I am proud to say that, using these well-honed criteria, the Twins picked well.
  9. Axel Kohagen
    Twins versus Mariners
     
    No Big Deal (Game 51)
     
    The ball game was relegated to nothing more than background noise. The goose-egg on the Twins’ side of the scoreboard did little to lure me back in.
     
    With baseball refusing to signal the beginning of weekend joy. My conversation with my friend turned to ghost stories and hard luck tales. I even dug out the flashlight for that special campfire vibe.
     
    And so it’s like this: Baseball is apple pie, and when people are done with their slice they return to sampling the evils of the regular world.
     
    What I’m saying is Minnesota baseball’s piece of pie better get a lot more satisfying if it plans to be pleasantly distracting this summer.
     
    3-0 ain’t cutting it.
     
    Selling the Drama (Game 52)
     
    When Doumit hit the walk-off triple and I pumped my fist inside my car, I knew it was time to stop being superstitious about jinxing him. I touched the Misfits button I have on my driver’s side visor and heard, in my mind, the opening bars of “Mother.”
     
    Thinking of a certain relief pitcher as your closer may not make for good managing, but it does create guaranteed drama on the diamond. If you create a guy as the end-all-be-all of keeping the other team of the scoreboard, you create at least three guys who want to take him down.
     
    Gotta love that.
     
    Gotta love Joe Mauer, too. He’s confident, calm, and consistent. I get a mouth full of bile any time I hear someone complain about whether or not he’s clutch. They sound like someone screaming “Told you it’d be heads” after the coin didn’t come up tails for the first time in a hundred tries.
     
    Raining Domination and Baseballs (Game 53)
     
    This is going to sound counter-intuitive, but the best way to appreciate a home team blowout is in bits and pieces, scattered through out your day.
     
    Don’t misunderstand me – nothing beats being at the game.
     
    But if you can’t be at the game, it’s best to get the game in glimpses.
     
    That way, every time you tune in the Twins smash it up and pour on some runs.
     
    When I’m not hearing the game, I’m imagining the Twins have somehow perfected batting to the point where they CANNOT miss, and they CANNOT hit anything except a home run.
     
    The scoreboard would read infinity.
     
    Major league baseball would be forced to enact what would be referred to as the Twins Rules.
     
    Joe Mauer would live on a mountain of baseballs and meditate in his own strike zone of Zen.
     
    10-0 is pretty good, though.
     
    But someday.
  10. Axel Kohagen
    Twins versus Brewers
     
    The Coliseum Cheers (Game 49)
     
    I tuned into the game just before Sam Deduno got enough outs to put himself in line for a win. He’s like dynamite: The Twins get the exact perfect ratio of balls to strikes from him or everything blows up in their face.
     
    The radio was all about the solid defensive performance from the Twins, but all the signals beaming out of Target Field amped up to 11 for a foul ball Chris Parmelee snagged, battling fate and gravity the whole way.
     
    A great moment, and it got better. Reaching for the ball was Parker “Over the Baggy” Hageman. The TV camera caught his reaction, which a combination of animal howl and sheer childhood joy.
     
    Moments later, screenshots of Parker filled my Twitter feed. And then the gifs came to play.
     
    When the Twins win, the joy of victory spreads through the coliseum of revelers. It travels on wi-fi and through televisions.
     
    Parker screamed for all of us. Three victories into recovering from life in the baseball wastelands, I’m more than happy to scream along with him.
     
    Outside the Friend Zone (Game 50)
     
    I missed most of this game while navigating a full schedule. I grabbed a few blissful moments of radio revelry as the Twins swatted home runs hither and tither with great abandon.
     
    I didn’t catch the part where they let the Brewers creep back in, and I don’t think I care for that part.
     
    Four wins in a row is pretty nice week, but my joy de baseball hasn’t returned yet. Maybe they’re just too far away from the Great Line of Break-Evening.
     
    I got to spend some good time today with friends. It made me realize I can’t even imagine befriending a baseball player, unless they were a worn down relief pitcher. I’m too old. Simply dreaming of wild baseball nights tires me out.
  11. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Brewers
     
    Wanting What Uecker’s Got (Game 47)
     
    Twins found a win on their first game of the series in Milwaukee. I listened to the first inning on the radio and monitored the rest of the action on my phone. I only half believe giving up on a team hurts their chances of winning, but I absolutely know they won in spite of my pessimism today.
     
    Listened to Bob Uecker call that first inning. Still weird to think about him having a stalker for all of those years. I guess, when you’re the voice of the official game of childhood dreams people come after you hoping to take more than their fair share.
     
    I knew about Uecker from Mr. Belvedere before I knew about him from baseball. I used to look so much like the kid from that show they called me “Wesley” when I as in elementary school.
     
    Man, I hated that.
     
    I must not have used up all my superstition, because I’m starting to think Doumit does best when I’m not paying attention.
     
    You know, like playing “Red Light, Green Light.”
     
    From Four Up to Extra Innings (Game 48)
     
    In the Age of Smartphones, time exists differently. It speeds up or slows down depending on when you check to see what updates have been brought to your device.
     
    Because of this, in my world, the Twins went from having a 4-0 lead to being tied 4-4 in a matter of minutes, with no explanation. They choked between a celebratory tweet sent to my phone and the game coming back from commercial.
     
    I don’t know if it’s better to take the disappointment all at once, or to let it sink in with each at bat pounding another nail into the coffin.
     
    The late-innings ball wasn’t pretty, even a few steps removed and watching the plays as they happened on my computer. During this, the Twins Twitter account was in the process of what felt, to me, like recreating the annoyance of the wave on-line.
     
    In the 14th inning the Twins pushed a run across and bedtime was in sight. Duensing shut the door and the Twins managed to win one in extra innings.
     
    In under 24 hours, they face the same team at a different stadium.
     
    It’s like they won’t have anything new to gossip about before the game.
  12. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Tigers
     
    10 Pins Fall Down (Game 44)
     
    I asked the score if I should watch the Twins game. The score said no, and I had no regrets about spending some time with my wife, my friend, and an awful movie called The Greenskeeper.
     
    The formerly infamous John Rocker, pitcher, played the killer.
     
    It’s on Netflix.
     
    In the ninth inning, we watched our phones to make sure the Twins avoided getting no-hit.
     
    Following a baseball team has very few real-life side effects. Getting no-hit can really change a fan’s next few days. There will be texts, tweets, and Facebook messages. There may be phone calls. Every new site on the Internet and every newsstand mocks you.
     
    Mauer hit a single. No additional suffering this day.
     
    Lots of games left, though.
     
    What IS a Loveable Loser? (Game 45)
     
    The Twins score enough early to limp out of the game with a win.
     
    It’s hard to remember the last names of the Twins rotation. In the shuffle, they lost Joe Benson, for whatever that’s worth.
     
    When, I think about “loveable loser” teams, they’re usually either teams that pull it together to win in the end or the Chicago Cubs.
     
    I don’t want to be a Cubs fan, Target Field division.
     
    Reality isn’t doing much to calm my fears. Gleeman’s been tweeting Twins pitching stats that’ll curl your toenails. Sometimes I’d feel more comfortable if we played T-ball.
     
    When I get that scared, I just let someone tell me bedtime stories about the guys in single-A. It’s the only way I can get to sleep.
     
    Head First, Like Pete Rose (Game 46)
     
    The Twins lost again, but we’re not really going to talk about them.
     
    Today was Arrested Development Day. After being off the air for more than seven years, the cult sitcom was resurrected on Netflix. They offered up all 15 new episodes for viewing today, so that’s exactly how many episodes my wife and I watched.
     
    Baseball had to wait for the Bluths. Doubt I’m the only one who thought that today.
     
    Arrested Development got canceled for being a baseball show in a football world. It rewarded patient viewers with keen eyes and quick wits. It’s not something you’d expect a Steve Holt to understand.
     
    If you’re not a frequent visitor to the Bluth banana stand, you know someone who is and they’ve told you all about the show. It perfectly captures a detached, doomed and yet whimsical worldview you need to have when the vultures are circling overhead.
     
    And those vultures bring us right back to the Twins, who made last night’s victory seem like a trick.
     
    Excuse me. Like an illusion.
  13. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Braves
     
    Gimme Danger? (Game 41)
     
    Bad night in the US outside of baseball. Tornados took a chunk out of the country again, leaving too many dead (no matter the number) and many of the rest battling post-disaster financial hardship like it was a kind of cancer. For those affected, this will be a mile marker for the rest of their lives.
     
    Sadly, but less tragically, Doors’ keyboardist Ray Manzarek died.
     
    The Doors were dangerous rock and roll. They made music fearlessly, and when they were beautiful, it was almost a side effect. Like baseball, they go great with beer.
     
    I could’ve used a little more dangerous rock and roll with my Twins game tonight. You can tell the tale in two sentences.
     
    Four runs given up in the first. Nothing to write home about after that.
     
    It takes talent and brains to win ball games: that rare combo of dedicated training and calculated application of skills to situations.
     
    So if the Twins can’t win the Twins way, maybe we oughta get a little gritty out there.
     
    How many wins does being creepy out there add to a season? Is their a Mad Hungarian stat floating around somewhere?
     
    Fair in Foul Weather (Game 42)
     
    Except for Plouffe’s unfortunate injury, all I remember about this game is being sure they would win and Perkins would get the save until I always knew Perkins would biff the save and the Twins stood no chance.
     
    I think with my brain but I cheer with my guts and heart. I believe in statistics, but when I’m watching as a fan the Twins are going to win it all at the World Series and lose every game from here on out – often in the same inning.
     
    Losing Plouffe to a play at second splintered Twitter into individual statements of fear and worry. After last year’s never-ending stream of injuries, there’s no joy in Twinsville.
     
    The new car smell is gone, and all of us fans are pointing out the dents and dings while we sigh aloud.
     
    The Wheels Come Off (Game 43)
     
    Cheering for a successful Twins season (including the very humble Break-Evening) involved great suspension of disbelief from the first pitch.
     
    Today I heard the Twins were behind before I even knew they started playing.
     
    I didn’t tune back into the game until it was over. Dan Gladden and everyone else sounded mad about the game. Like, someone brought a complete jerk of a date to Christmas dinner mad.
     
    Even with my fan blinders firmly in place, I felt the season drop like an upset stomach. Embarrassing on-field promotions are coming. It will be more cost efficient to wallpaper your house with Twins tickets than newspaper.
     
    Okay, so? I overreact.
     
    At least I got to see Liriano pitch a solid game for the Pirates. He threw the baseball up, down, and everywhere, but someone Frankie K got it working tonight. I miss him.
     
    One last thing: The Tomahawk Chop is still a thing? Imagine if someone tried to start it at a high school baseball game and it got caught on camera.
  15. Axel Kohagen
    White Sox at Twins
     
    Four Sacks of Groceries and Two Dingers (Game 35)
     
    When the Twins have a three run lead, it’s safe to grocery shop without excessive worry.
     
    When the Twins are behind, each trip down the grocery store aisles is pure agony. Every spare moment and empty space offers an opportunity to check the score on your cell phone. When the other team’s runs pile on, it’s hard to keep shopping.
     
    The Twins rewarded my trust with a surplus of runs and a magical day for Aaron Hicks. He hit two home runs and robbed Adam Dunn of one.
     
    It’s easy to say I never doubted Aaron Hicks, because I always wanted him to succeed. That said, it does feel like the team almost got up from the slot machine before it started paying out hits.
     
    Did They Play? (Game 36)
     
    I remember seeing all things Aaron Hicks over the Internet, and then I remember listening to the game. I remember they lost, despite getting a few lucky calls from the umpires.
     
    Some baseball games find their way to the box scores as dropped spoonfuls of bland glop.
     
    I’m having trouble hating the White Sox this year. This upsets me. Hating the White Sox made me feel good, in a special way. With Ozzie and A.J. scattered to the winds, they’re just not as odious.
     
    Adam Dunn massacred this team in ways reserved for cheap paperbacks, but I can’t hate him. He went to the brink of baseball nothingness and came back.
     
    I don’t even hate the Yankees all that much this year. Either I’m growing up or there’s a shortage of villains in cleats.
     
    Loss in the Afternoon (Game 37)
     
    I forgot the Twins started early and didn’t remember until I came downstairs to the sounds of Cory Provus calling the action on the field.
     
    Then, things got cursed.
     
    Every time I got away from the game, the White Sox put up run after run. I’m grown enough to know I didn’t curse the team when I wasn’t listening.
     
    Still, I’m sorry, because I blame myself.
     
    Today was a Jamey Carroll kind of day. Three hits at the plate for a guy who’s usually on the bench.
     
    This is a guy who’s achieved baseball excellence above and beyond what 99.9% of mortals ever will. But you don’t see a lot of Carroll jerseys in the stands.
     
    Jamey Carroll is proof magic exists, and yet he pales when compared to a Mauer, or a Pujols, or a Harper.
     
    How far can any of us expect to rise, and how truly rare are the greatest of the great?
  16. Axel Kohagen
    Orioles at Twins
     
    A Damn Shame (Game 32)
     
    These days, it’s a lot easier to keep up with the Twins when you’re traveling.
     
    This can be perilous, however.
     
    For example, when the Twins blow a six run lead and you find out in the middle of a friendly conversation with your family. There are words and phrases that desperately need screaming, but politeness dictates you keep your mouth shut.
     
    I settled on letting out a wordless scream. I think it did the trick.
     
    Later, as we settled in to sleep for this night I listened to the team cough up the lead, and then a few more runs to boot. Behind a closed door I felt free to mutter the best swear words I knew.
     
    Sure am glad I didn’t miss this game because I was traveling, you guys.
     
    Rolling the Right Way (Game 33)
     
    Sneak peeks at my cell phone offered happier updates this time around.
     
    This is incredibly fortunate, because I needed a distraction from the awful movie I rented for the family to watch as we finished out the evening. I’m sure we weren’t the only family suffering through a comedy with way too much nudity and thrusting, but that doesn’t make it any better.
    A Twins game where the score grew and the team rolled toward inevitable victory added some good cheer.
     
    Didn’t see many TC symbols around the part of Iowa we grew up in. The updates and radio broadcasts felt like messages from the home front.
     
    I oughta raise high the Twins Territory banners when I get home.
     
    Fizzling Out Over The Plains (Game 34)
     
    With the car loaded and our trip home begun, I smiled when I heard Cory Provus’ voice on the AM radio.
     
    There’s something perfect about Sunday afternoons, wide open plains, and baseball on the AM radio. If you ever listened to a single game with a grandparent, you know they’re right with you at that moment.
     
    The mushy feelings didn’t last long. Provus said the score, and the Orioles kept adding to their side of the equation. The warm and fuzzy AM radio became harder to hear, and 5-0 sounded like a great place to bail on this particular game.
     
    Fortunately, Rammstein and AC/DC are made for long drives across the Midwest, too.
  17. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Red Sox
     
    Too Old for the Gang at Cheers (Game 28)
     
    Home early, with my wife home as well, I started getting a hankering for watching the Twins play at a sports bar. Baseball’s just a little bit better when you’re covered in buffalo sauce and ordering another beer.
     
    Except it was Monday. And I’m old. And wings plus beer plus anything else starts to add up to be a decent chunk of change. Don’t get me started on the calories, either. Plus, then you’re surrounded by a lot of people and you have to wear pants . . .
     
    Think it’s about time I got a rocking chair and gave in to being a cranky old guy.
     
    The game didn’t do much to make me less cranky. The Twins went up by two quickly, but when they couldn’t do much after that you knew it was going to end badly. A Brian Dozier home run prolonged the hope just long enough for an extra-innings snuffing of hope’s candle.
     
    .500 is attainable, Twins. But you gotta win a few in a row to get back there.
     
    I’m really pulling for Vance Worley, because I feel like I haven’t gotten to say “Vanimal” enough, and I’d really like to say “Vanimal” quite a lot.
     
    Friendly Monsters (Game 29)
     
    It snowed in Minnesota on Friday. Today, I saw a bank sign telling me it was 80. It’s warm enough now you can smell people’s sweat, and somehow that’s important for enjoying baseball on the radio.
     
    David Ortiz continued a hitting streak in this game. He’ll always be the one that got away for Twins fans, but he’s more than that. He’s got a giant smile and hits massive home runs. He’s like King Kong, Godzilla, or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. You have to love him, no matter what team he plays for.
     
    Tonight’s monster was Ryan Doumit, who had a double and a home run. Scott Diamond put Red Sox in a line and mowed ‘em down. Aaron Hicks committed a baseball-flipping protocol faux pas. After that, some fans and analysts had kittens at an alarming rate.
     
    Everyone baseball lover’s heart was sick for J.A. Happ, who took a line drive to the head and went down fast. Going to a baseball game can feel like visiting a cathedral, but we all want to avoid blood sacrifices.
     
    Ryan Doumit’s Punch-Out (Game 30)
     
    When I got the chance to tune into the Twins game, there’d been a slaughter. The Twins were already in double digits and victory was all but assured.
     
    My guy Ryan Doumit hit a two-run homer and was all over the basepath. I’ve taken to quoting lyrics from “Mother,” his walk-up song, in celebratory tweets lauding Doumit’s feats of strength.
     
    I believe this is called gushing. I’m fine with that. It’s good to have a baseball buddy.
     
    Whenever the Twins smack the hell out of the ball, I picture each hit as another magic trick. The audience claps in disbelief but somehow, the show keeps going.
     
    If Cuddy were still here, I could really sell that metaphor.
     
    Loose Teeth (Game 31)
    By the time I tuned into the Twins game, evidence of a one-inning victory blow was all over my cell phone. I listened to the rest of the game in satisfied silence, sure the Twins would win.
     
    It’s like pulling teeth. You work at it. You get some leverage. And then the whole thing pops and you can’t even remember the struggle.
     
    On a related note, I picked up bits of the Minnesota House of Representatives approving a gay marriage bill. I instantly remembered high school attitudes about such things and can’t believe how quickly times change.
     
    But some things get the privilege of staying the same. Cheering when your team records the final out and giddily telling your partner about the victory is the same today as yesterday, and as it has been for decades. That’s a good thing to stay the same.
     
    Somehow, the Twins over-achieved on breaking even and pulled out a winning record in May. I’ll allow it.
  18. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Cleveland
     
    Except Tonight (Game 25)
     
    For me, skipping the 10th inning of an extra innings game is like skipping the opener of a rock concert. You usually don’t miss much.
     
    Except tonight, when the Twins crapped out in extra inning (singular).
     
    Because I am a fan of the heart and not of the head, I assume the Twins will win all games where the score stays close. And when a home run comes flying out of the Magical Land of Parmelee, the Twins just have to win.
     
    Except tonight, when the Twins didn’t.
     
    I assume the Twins will find a way to win a game that keeps them from going below .500. The sun shines brighter when the Twins are in the Magical Land of Break-Eveners.
     
    Except today, when it snowed again and the Twins didn’t.
     
    I don’t want to be a winner. I want to gladly settle on being a Break-Evener.
     
    The Hicks, The Mauer, and the Pelfrey (Game 26)
     
    Twins drop two in the first and never get back up again.
     
    They found a way to get three runners across home plate, which helps a little.
     
    Aaron Hicks hit his first home run. It seems like that story is moving closer to a happy ending every day. The story of Mauer having difficulties at the plate continues to chill my blood.
     
    Correia came up clunky and empty, and he was due for one. This was a baseball game to wipe clean his slate of great starts. What’ll we start over with?
     
    As a devout Break-Evener, I’ll settle for third starter material with the occasional bad game. Especially looking down the barrel of Pelfrey tomorrow.
     
    Giant Liar (Game 27)
     
    My hopeful demeanor about Twins games, back on Friday, is a giant load of crap. The Twins earned an early lead in this game and my gut roiled waiting for them to cough it up and get swept up by Cleveland brooms.
     
    The TC caps made me liar. I’m especially humbled by Mike Pelfrey, who owned the mound and turned in a heckuva performance.
     
    I monitored this game on Twitter, where home runs are announced by tweet after tweet of name-related puns.
     
    Trevor Plouffe’s name is a punster’s dream.
     
    I wonder how many home runs Plouffe has to hit before he’s no longer the official Bad Boy of the Twins. He needs out of that doghouse, and fast.
     
    The Twins don’t tolerate Bad Boys very well. Maybe that’s what draws me to them.
     
    “You just don’t understand him!” I plan to scream to Gardy after Plouffe’s play in the field raises his anger. “You just never gave him a chance.”
  19. Axel Kohagen
    Twins at Detroit
     
    That Was Fast (Game 22)
     
    If the Twins have to lose, maybe it’s best they lose quickly so we can all watch a nice movie before we head to bed for the evening.
     
    When Kris Atteberry does the postgame report after a brutal Twins loss, it always sounds like the narration on a Civil War documentary. All they’re missing is a lonesome harmonica sound.
     
    I don’t like it when Mauer isn’t hitting. It’s like adjusting to a world where the laws of physics aren’t in affect.
     
    I did like it a lot better when Prince Fielder played for the National League. I enjoy cheering for the guy, but it’s a lot easier when he’s not spanking every pitcher in a Twins uniform.
     
    I’m trying not to mention Mike Pelfrey. This is the best I can do.
     
    Historically, this unremarkable baseball game only has significance as having been played on the day Jason Collins announced he is gay.
     
    This will change baseball, and it should. And yet 90 feet will stay 90 feet and getting a hit will still feel so damned good, regardless of your age, gender, or who you love.
     
     
    Don’t Get Comfy (Game 23)
     
    Settled in to my usual spot on the couch after I got home from work. I set down my soda and snacks. My lovely Great Dane stayed curled up beside me. The sun shone through my front windows.
     
    By the time I was ready for a beautiful baseball moment, the Twins got torpedoed in the bottom of the 5th and took all the fun out of my evening.
     
    At least Mauer got a hit. Maybe life will get back to normal.
     
    This Tigers team is really, really good. If we Twins fans got lucky enough to stumble into another “David and Goliath path to the playoffs” story (and this is mostly playing pretend here), they’d make for the perfect opponents.
     
    Snow Joke (Game 24)
     
     
    The snow flurries I watched flit through the air as I listened the Twins and the Tigers weren’t a joke, and I wasn’t laughing.
     
    I’m feeling kinda Parmalee lately. His homer today definitely got my attention, and it must be stated that I’ll forgive anything on a batting average for a home run. For at least a week.
     
    It’s a weakness.
     
    It should be noted Cory Provus calls as good of a “foul ball to the booth” as he does a baseball game. When the ball came after the Twins radio crew in their booth, it sounded like shrapnel from a WWII film. Danny Gladden made the play and lost his watch. Provus narrated the search for the missing timepiece.
     
    The Twins take this last game to maintain their status as Champion Break-Eveners. .500 never tasted so good.
  20. Axel Kohagen
    RANGERS AT HOME
     
    Have Cap, Will Travel (Game 18)
     
    Took the wife to Wits at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, where Michael Ian Black joined the show for the evening. Black is a comedic laser so sharp you can correct people’s vision with his jokes.
     
    Wits projects tweets onto the wall before the performance and at intermission. Couple tweeters in attendance used the board as a way of checking the score. Caught a couple Twins caps and jackets in the audience, too.
     
    The Wits performance was original and intimate, and made me a fan of musician A.C. Newman.
     
    The problem? The Twins performance was nothing new. It was the same old tale of runs given up early and the game fumbling its way to a Minnesota loss.
     
    I did catch part of the television broadcast before we made it to the theater. When Dick Bremer finally goes with a full pompadour hair-do, get a picture for me.
     
     
    Blah Summer Nights (Game 19)
     
    Still in a funk over the Twins loss on Thursday night, I punished the team by only monitoring their play via the live graphics on MLB.com.
     
    At least, I tried monitoring the team. I was also trying to load music onto my Android phone for theoretical jogging on some future date. This process became a disastrous blow to my self esteem and cemented my identity as a man who technology has passed by.
     
    The Twins did little to distract me from technical hell. Then they got to the ninth inning and Arcia hit a ball out of the park to bring my beloved Doumit to the plate as the tying run.
     
    That didn’t work out so well.
     
    Joe Nathan may be a Texas Ranger now, but I enjoy his pitching so much it’s hard not to cheer a little when he comes up against the Twins. When Arcia knocked in three I almost puffed out my own cheeks in solidarity with the man on the mound.
     
    I need to get to Target Field soon. Outdoors no longer seems like a hostile environment designed to destroy my soul. A cool breeze doesn’t taste half as good if there’s not a ballgame in front of you.
     
    Hicks Hacks and Hits (Game 20)
    With my windows open and my work week over, I sat down to spend some quality time with the Minnesota Twins radio broadcast.
     
    Initially, I had designs on a nap. Fortunately, the Twins bats cracked too loudly for sleep and the game ended with the Twins at .500.
     
    Twitter Twins fans are coming to accept Aaron Hicks, who scored his first extra base hit during this game. Some trumpet his recent growth to announce they’re first on the bandwagon. Others have settled in because there ain’t much else to do.
     
    Since Friday, I have become aware people exist. I suspected they were out there, but now that the weather is perfectly delightful, there are people everywhere. I think the fading cabin fever leads to spontaneous conversations with strangers. I’ll bet Target Field was full of new best friends today.
     
     
    Changed and Unchanged (Game 21)
     
    On my retro Sunday, I enjoyed a baseball game on the radio while looking out the window on a gorgeous spring day and reading G.K. Chesterton’s classic 1908 mystery The Man Who Was Thursday.
     
    Except my radio also double as an Ipod dock and I was reading Chesterton on a Kindle, not in hardcover.
     
    Nothing makes the universe feel more right than realizing enjoying the action on the diamond connects you with over a century of history.
     
    I wouldn’t have caught baseball on the radio in 1908, but I could’ve kept up on the scores and maybe caught a game or two.
     
    I would’ve seen something that year that’s unheard of in our time. The Cubs won the NL pennant.
     
    The Twins composed a perfect Sunday afternoon game. Correia kept the baserunners from crossing home and the Twins hitters kept the punches coming when it counted. Any game with a Morneau home run feels like a bare knuckle brawl and Gardy’s already getting ejected in midseason form.
     
    No more Twins baseball until tomorrow night. Wish my MLB app could pick up games from the past.
  21. Axel Kohagen
    Double-headers are perfect. Ideally, the Twins would play twenty-four hours a day and I could always listen to them on the radio. There's probably some silly reason that wouldn't work, though.
     
    Heard about the Arcia home-run on a quick phone check, then listened to enough game to feel like the Twins had it ready to put in their pocket. Then I alternated snippets of radio updates and smart phone monitoring to realize the second game might stay close, but it was probably never going the Twins way.
     
    One game won, one game lost. When it comes down to it, we'll all remember today for the weather and the baseball will be an afterthought. I left my house feeling like an extra in Dr. Zhivago and came home to spring time and mud pies.
     
    John Bonnes poetically praised this last summer dumping. The words were beautiful, but I think he's suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.
     
    If I have to give an MVP for the day, I'd give it to the Target Rally Song. I still hum along and bop my head to that thing, and it's been around for several years. How many pop sensations haven't had the longevity of that jingle? Can we get a disco remix?
     
    - Axel
  22. Axel Kohagen
    Spent the day with friends I hadn't seen in far too long and observed the Twins cementing a victory, via my phone, on the drive home.
     
    Plus, the sun is starting to smack back the zombie hordes of winter snowdrifts. Groovy.
     
    There was another Twins fan present at our afternoon gathering, so I felt no shame about checking the score. There are those other times when you have to monitor the boys of summer without getting caught.
     
    What's your strategy?
     
    The sly peak into your purse or pocket?
     
    The legitimate excuse to check your phone, followed by quick score check?
     
    The bathroom updates?
     
    Or do you just get your phone out and dare others to stop you?
     
    Oh yeah. Twins are over .500. The team may not be completely out of the cellar and into the light, but like today's weather taught me, a little sunlight goes along way after a lot of darkness and despair.
     
    -Axel
  23. Axel Kohagen
    Weather kept Twins baseball off my radio from the game ending Tuesday night until today's 2-1 victory over the White Sox.
     
    In that time, the nation struggled to reclaim meaning from tragedy. Locally, winter weather kicked Minnesotan ribs while the state was still down from the last snowstorm.
     
    Baseball would've helped.
     
    Somehow, the Twins are at .500 again. I haven't looked at any stats, but my gut's telling me their at bats have a little more pep in them than last year. Keeps us going in tight games.
     
    Of course, I'm the first to admit I'm a fan with my heart first. I just tell the stories. If you're looking for the facts, go somewhere smarter.
     
    Nice seeing Doumit get some love in a game. One step closer to fulfilling my "Glenn Danzig throws out the first pitch" fantasy.
     
    -Axel
  24. Axel Kohagen
    I'm ashamed to admit I used to complain about Joe Mauer five years ago. I was an impressionable baseball fan, and I think I allowed the tough dudes of sports bitchery to get too far inside my head.
     
    I picture those men, the constant whiners, as if constantly huddled under bleachers and punching each others' arms to emphasize every point.
     
    I think I'm older and wiser now, and I appreciate Joe Mauer a great deal. He's very good in his bad years, and a precision hitting machine when he's at his best. He never loses composure. He proves his toughness in consistency spread over a long line, not in moments of fury too brief to amount to anything meaningful.
     
    With his four hits and Anthony Swarzak's relief magic, the Twins have guaranteed a win in this series against the Angels and look to be finding a way back to .500 baseball.
     
    For this year, I can learn to love .500 baseball.
     
    - Axel
  25. Axel Kohagen
    I'm happy the Twins won 8-2 over the Angels on a cold and snowy night. I'm even happy Brendan Harris got a home run for the Angels. I always had a soft spot for him when he was a Twin, even if he did find himself on the losing end of an on-field squirrel attack.
     
    Mostly, I'm thankful that tonight there was a patch of my fair city where people gathered together to watch an ordered, fair, and safe contest. More people watched the event on their televisions, and other (like me) listened on the radio.
     
    When the game was over, I know who won and who lost. I can piece together reasons why. I'm glad for all the players who take pride in what they do, and the officials and team employees who keep the game on the field a place where life makes sense.
     
    We pay billions of dollars to keep the sporting world safe from the muddiness of reality, where rules and hearts get broken.
     
    Today, in Boston, the safety of 26.2, breath control, and stamina was violated by some brand of horrible real-world business. Upsetting to everything we hold dear.
     
    Thank God that, at night, 3 strikes is an out and three outs half a inning and a lead after nine innings is a victory. My head fits nicely around these numbers. I can analyze them with people in stadiums, in bars, in living rooms, or on social media. I can keep conversations going and keep from being isolated, lonely, or scared.
     
    A baseball cap and a smile gets you a conversation on any street in this country.
     
    So thanks to all of those who keep these important games played and played right. Thoughts and prayers to those who are hurting.
     
    And get some sleep, because tomorrow we play ball again.
     
    - Axel
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